


And Since We've No Place To Go (Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow)

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Xmas Prompts [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Snowed In, There was only one bed!, Thomas Barrow Xmas 2020, xmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Thomas and Jimmy get snowed in and *gasp* there’s only one bed!
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Xmas Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031865
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51
Collections: A Very Thomas Barrow Christmas 2020





	And Since We've No Place To Go (Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow)

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt 2 - Snowed in - “There’s at least five feet of snow outside, are you mad?”

It was Jimmy’s half day - a day he’d begged and pleaded and swapped with both Alfred and Bates to make sure it lined up with Thomas’s - and they’d planned to take a chilly winter’s walk into the village together, then a bus to York for some shopping at the Christmas market.

“But there’s a blizzard,” Thomas protested, as if a bit of snow would put Jimmy off having the under-butler to himself for the rest of the day.

“Not too delicate to be able to deal with a bit of snow are we, Mr Barrow?” Jimmy teased, turning up his collar.

Thomas narrowed his eyes; “It’s your weak constitution I’m worried about - you catch a cold by looking out the window.”

Jimmy thumped him on the arm. “Well some of us have less _natural padding_ to protect us from the elements us than others.”

That earned him a snort of laughter and a; “Have it your way.” Then, in an affected cut-glass accent: “I am just going outside and may be some time.”

Which set Jimmy off into great guffaws - so much so that it drew Daisy from the kitchen to see what was the matter.

“Nuthin’,” Jimmy chortled, “Captain Barrow is goin’ to make the ultimate sacrifice,” he paused and put on his best upstairs voice then said, “the act of a brave man and an English gentleman.”

Thomas snickered and Daisy looked between them as if they’d gone mad.

“I never understand a word you two are goin’ on ‘bout,” she frowned, “it’s like you’ve got a secret language that no-one else is allowed in on.”

For some reason that thought warmed Jimmy’s insides for the duration of their snowy trek into the village.

“Bloody fool’s errand this is,” Thomas said as they waited for the bus. It had been snowing gently and there was a dusting of white clinging to his shoulders and the brim of his bowler, like someone had shaken a bottle of talcum over him.

“Don’t be grumpy,” Jimmy said, his shoulder pressed into Thomas’s, “it’s not even snowing that much.”

“My nose is going to snap off.”

Jimmy just rolled his eyes.

“My toes are getting frostbite.”

“Should’ve worn boots then.”

A huff, then; “My old war wound is aching something rotten.”

That one got Jimmy’s attention. “Oh, sorry.” He pulled off his woollen gloves and handed them to Thomas. “They’ll be warmer than your leather ones.”

Thomas eyed them distastefully - they had seen better days but Jimmy’s mum had knitted them before she died so he was reluctant to replace them.

“They’re very...green,” Thomas said tactfully.

“Me mum knitted ‘em,” Jimmy said, as if that explained it.

Thomas stopped, one glove half-on. “Oh. And you’d let me wear them?”

“S’just _gloves_.” He definitely didn’t mean for his voice to do that stupid wobbly thing.

“It’s not just gloves.”

Jimmy stared up into the falling snow - he could feel Thomas’s eyes on him.

“No, it’s not _just gloves_ but - well, it’s _you_. You’re allowed.”

Silence. Jimmy dared a sort-of sideways glance at the under-butler. He was gazing at Jimmy with open affection and Jimmy’s heart did a funny little _pas de bourree_ in his chest.

“I - thanks,” Thomas said eventually, slipping the gaudy gloves over his leather ones.

The bus, when it finally arrived, was mostly empty and not much warmer than being outside. It was Thomas’s turn for the window seat so Jimmy crowded in next to him, trying to blow some heat into his now-freezing hands.

“You should have the gloves back,” Thomas said, but Jimmy shook his head.

”You need them more.”

The bus got stuck in a drift on the way to York and all the men had to get off and push the damn thing to get it going. Jimmy somehow managed to end up face down in a dirty-grey bank of snow, with Thomas bent over double laughing at him.

“It’s not funny,” Jimmy protested, trying to slough the mess off his coat, “I’m wet.”

“I - don’t even - know how - you manage it!” Thomas said between laughs.

Jimmy pouted. “I just don’t know me own strength, is all.” He picked up a handful of snow and lobbed it at Thomas; it splattered against his bowler, knocking it clean off.

“Oi!” Thomas exclaimed, hastily pulling off Jimmy’s borrowed gloves and stuffing them in his pocket. He scooped up some snow pelted it at Jimmy - he dodged around the bus and the snowball slapped against the window.

It took all of thirty seconds for the whole bus to start a frantic snowball fight right there in the lane. Thomas and Jimmy teamed up then against two younger lads and their ruddy-cheeked father, and a pretty girl Jimmy recognised from the bakers in the village. She was always making eyes at him and giggling annoyingly whenever she saw him, so he used the opportunity to throw a particularly slushy snowball directly in her face. Maybe that would put her off in the future.

The driver eventually corralled them all back on board. Jimmy was wet and absolutely freezing - so much so that he had to thrust his burning hands under his own armpits and lean as close as possible to Thomas in a vain effort to share a little body heat.

Thomas accommodatingly put one arm along the back of the chair so Jimmy could scoot closer, his side pressed against the under-butlers. He thought, fleetingly, how nicely he fitted there, with Thomas’s arm almost-around his shoulders, and blushed.

When they finally reached York they spent all of ten minutes taking a cursory look around the market before Thomas suggested the pub.

“Didn’t - you - need - to - buy - something?” Jimmy said between shivers, his teeth chattering. The wind had picked up and was pelting him in the face with snow, stinging his raw cheeks.

“Yes,” Thomas said, “but you’re about to die of exposure. Let’s have a hot meal, a pint and get warm and dry.”

Unfortunately, every single one of the flurry of Christmas shoppers seemed to have had the same idea and the pubs were absolutely _heaving_. In the end they settled on a more expensive looking place than they’d usually choose - Thomas even used his _upstairs_ voice when he ordered their food. But it was worth it for the cosy little table for two they acquired near the welcome glow of the open fire. There was a steaming pot of mulled wine hanging over it, filling the room with the heady scent of cloves and cinnamon.

“Bit nice for the likes of us, ain’t it?” Jimmy said, a little self-conscious about his over-used grey suit and slightly scuffed shoes. A portly man with a neat moustache at the next table over gave him a sour look.

“Maybe for you,” Thomas smirked. He wasn’t wrong - Thomas looked as if he fitted in with the middle-class crowd, what with his smart suit and bowler hat and perfectly coiffed hair.

“They probably think I’m your servant, _milord_ ,” Jimmy replied.

Thomas snorted a laugh and nearly choked on his mulled wine. “Not likely.”

“Maybe your kept boy then?” Jimmy teased and Thomas’s face went apoplectic.

“Jimmy Jesus, shut up will you?” He hissed.

Jimmy gave over to laughing. “Sorry, sorry. Was that too far?”

“Rather.”

“So you’re allowed to joke about it and I’m not?”

“I’d never joke about that,” Thomas shook his head. “I wouldn’t - I don’t want to make to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t,” Jimmy replied, all seriousness. He let his knee rest against Thomas’s under the cover of the tablecloth. “Honestly, you don’t. It doesn’t bother me at all.” He let his hand fall atop Thomas’s and squeezed for a scant moment.

Thomas stared at their joined hands and bobbed his head, abashed. “Thank you - thanks for saying that.”

The waiter approached with their meal and both men quickly withdrew their hands. They ate an absolutely stonking meal and drank cup after cup of the mulled wine, until Jimmy felt decidedly sloppy and Thomas had that stunning band of pink running over his nose and across his cheekbones that indicated he was sloshed too.

They’d been so busy chatting and laughing and generally having a right proper good time, that Jimmy hadn’t noticed the inn had slowly emptied around them. He looked around, confused; “What’s happened to everyone? Have we been here _that_ long?”

Thomas pulled out his pocket watch. “Bloody hell, didn’t know it were so late. We should go,” he said, signalling for the bill.

“Are you chaps local?” The waiter asked, handing the bill to Thomas.

Thomas’s eyebrows shot up at the slip of paper and he pulled a couple of notes out of his wallet. “No - why?”

“Only the roads are closed, due to the snow.”

Jimmy strode over to the window - the street outside was dark, the gas lamps struggling to penetrate the flurry of snow, but even in the low orange glow he could see that the road was impassable.

“Well, we have to be back at work tonight,” Thomas said, taking his change. “We will have to risk it.”

“There’s at least five feet of snow outside, are you mad?” Jimmy said. “There won’t be any buses or trains running now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Thomas said, crossing the room to peer out of the window. His face paled when he saw the whiteout. “Blimey, I think we _might_ be stuck here.”

“We have one room left,” the waiter said, “if you want it?”

Jimmy nodded, he didn’t see any choice. They couldn’t exactly sleep in the street. And the thought of sharing a room with Thomas wasn’t exactly as repellent as he knew it should be. The idea actually thrilled him a little, if he were honest.

Thomas looked about to protest when Jimmy said; “It’s fine Thomas, stop worrying.”

Jimmy filled in the register and scraped together every penny he had in his pockets to pay for the room, whilst Thomas used the inn’s telephone to call the Abbey.

Thomas hung up the phone. “Carson’s not happy,” he said.

“When is he ever?”

“Fair point.”

The waiter - _Bobby_ \- showed them up to their room. It was very nice; a little fireplace had already warmed the place to perfection. The walls were adorned with modern wallpaper and the heavy curtains at the window cut out the orange glare of the gas lamp completely. The pièce de résistance stood proudly in the centre of the room; one very plush four-poster bed.

Jimmy stilled. _One_ bed.

“I can take the floor, or that chair,” Thomas said quickly, pointing to the wing-back next to the fire.

“What, so you can freeze to death and cripple your back in one fell swoop?” Jimmy scoffed. “You can sleep in the bed.”

“What about you?”

Jimmy swallowed. The mulled wine must’ve made him very daring because he said; “I’ll be in the bed too, of course.”

Thomas’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “That doesn’t seem like a very good idea.”

“It’s a perfectly fine idea,” Jimmy slurred, “it’s a very large bed. Unless you think you’re incapable of controlling yourself.”

Thomas glared. “I am perfectly capable, I assure you.” Which would’ve been more effective if it hadn’t taken three attempts for him to say it.

“Then there’s no problem, is there?” Jimmy smirked, stripped off his jacket and dumped it on the floor.

“None at all,” Thomas glowered, hanging his jacket on the chair.

“It’ll be two blokes,” Jimmy threw off his tie and shirt,”best mates at that,” then his shoes, sock garters and socks hit the floor, “sleepin’ next to each other,” followed by his trousers, until he was standing in his underthings, shivering.

Thomas silently stripped, carefully hanging each garment on the chair, until he was similarly undressed, his grey eyes on Jimmy the entire time.

“Right,” he said tightly, “bed.”

“Yes,” Jimmy nodded, “bed.”

They both approached the bed from opposite sides and simultaneously climbed under the covers. Jimmy let out an involuntary groan at the softness of the mattress.

“That’s _wonderful_ \- bloody hell, me own sad little bed is goin’ to seem harder than ever after this,” he sighed.

“Bleedin’ old mattress hurts my back now,” Thomas said, half hidden in his pile of plush pillows. “Wake up every morning with a knot between my shoulders, my lower back aching like I’ve been digging a ditch all night.”

Jimmy rolled over to look at Thomas - only his face was visible above the cosy duvet. “Let me...uh...massage it for you.”

Thomas looked at Jimmy as if he’d gone loopy. “What?”

“Your back,” Jimmy said innocently, “I could...rub it. Y’know. To make it feel better.”

Thomas blinked.

“Unless it’s too much and you won’t be able to manage without throwing me down into the pillows and ravaging me,” Jimmy teased. His brain supplied a glorious image of just that and his cheeks flushed pink.

Thomas narrowed his eyes, clearly not fooled by whatever game Jimmy was playing. “I’ll manage,” he said, rolling onto his stomach, then, unable to keep the slight tremor from his voice; “go on then.”

Jimmy hesitated; was he really going to do this? But then his hands were moving without his permission, pulling down the duvet to reveal Thomas’s undershirt-clad torso. He sat cross-legged beside the under-butler and started to knead the tense muscles of his shoulders.

“Oh,” Thomas said, then made a sort of humming sound of approval as Jimmy worked out a knot between his shoulder blades. “That’s _heaven_ ,” he moaned.

The sound went straight to Jimmy’s cock, which twitched in interest. He worked his hands lower, down into the small of Thomas’s back.

“Really,” he said with false nonchalance, “to get the full effect, you should really be topless, really.”

“Really?” Thomas parroted.

“Really,” Jimmy breathed.

Thomas’s undershirt was off within seconds, and unceremoniously dumped over the edge of the bed. Jimmy just stared at the glorious expanse of his pale back as Thomas resettled against the pillows. It was only when Thomas cleared his throat expectantly that Jimmy was spurred into action.

“You’re all tense,” Jimmy said, his fingers kneading the muscles of Thomas’s lower back.

“Yeah that’s the stress,” Thomas snorted, “bein’ under-butler’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Jimmy used his thumbs to loosen a particularly bad knot and Thomas moaned into the pillow.

Jimmy swallowed thickly then, before he had time to think about it, he swung one leg over to straddle Thomas’s upper thighs.

“Jimmy?!” Thomas exclaimed, twisting to peer over his shoulder at him.

“So I can reach better, is all,” Jimmy lied, his whole body burning with a blush.

Thomas was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed, before settling back to the pillows with a breathless; “Alright then.”

Jimmy restarted his ministrations, working his way up Thomas’s back until he was draped right over the under-butler, his cock pressed up against the curve of Thomas’s arse. Thomas was warm and pliant under his hands.

And, like that, Jimmy was suddenly achingly hard, and had to resist thrusting up against Thomas’s rear. With only their thin underwear between them, Thomas must’ve been able to feel Jimmy’s erection pressing into him.

“Thomas,” Jimmy said, “ _Thomas_.” And he bent his head and kissed the exposed curve of Thomas’s neck.

Thomas rolled under him and gazed up at Jimmy with wonder. He was hard too, the line of his cock visible through his underwear, and Jimmy only had to rock his hips forward minutely to make his own hardness grind into Thomas’s.

“God _Jimmy_ ,” Thomas moaned, his hands coming up to hold Jimmy’s hips, “I said this were a bad idea.”

“Feels pretty good to me,” Jimmy said, covering Thomas’s hands with his own and pushing his hips forwards again.

“Mmmmmph,” Thomas groaned, “we’re both _tight_ it’s - _ah_ \- you’ll regret it tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Jimmy said, “but I doubt it. I’ve been - _uhh_ \- thinkin’ ‘bout this for a long time. S’about time I did somethin’. And it is Christmas after all.”

Thomas closed his eyes, apparently at war with himself, so Jimmy leaned in and laid a soft kiss against his red mouth. It only took a moment for Thomas to respond, his mouth opening and sucking in Jimmy’s bottom lip.

“Oh,” Jimmy gasped against Thomas’s mouth - kissing him was absolutely _marvellous_ and nothing at all like the girls he’d kissed. There was the delicious scratch of Thomas’s stubble against his chin, and the incredible, lewd things Thomas was doing with his tongue as he pushed it into Jimmy’s mouth. His hips jerked down involuntary, trying to find more friction.

“ _Jimmy_ ,” Thomas moaned, his hands clutching the fabric of Jimmy’s underwear, which was suddenly maddeningly suffocating and needed to be _gone_. Jimmy quickly divested himself of his undershirt and long-johns, then worked Thomas’s one remaining garment down his thighs and chucked it over his shoulder.

The sight of Thomas naked and flushed red from his cheeks to mid chest made Jimmy’s cock twitch up against his stomach, leaking. He was covered in a thatch of coarse dark hair that led down to his thick member. Jimmy was overcome with a sudden, unbidden urge to put his mouth around it.

“Bloody hell Thomas, you’re so - you’re gorgeous,” Jimmy grinned and pressed a sloppy kiss to Thomas’s mouth. Thomas wrapped his arms around Jimmy and pulled their bodies flush, Jimmy pressing Thomas down into the mattress. “Will you...?” Jimmy stopped, not sure exactly what he was asking for.

Thomas reached between them and grasped both their erections, his wrist working a desperate rhythm. Jimmy gasped and thrust into Thomas’s hand, then kissed his mouth hungrily, letting his own tongue slip inside. This only spurred Thomas on more, his gloved hand tangling in Jimmy’s hair as his right worked their cocks together to the inevitable crescendo. It was sloppy and juvenile but, at the same time, the best thing Jimmy had experienced in all his days.

After they lay in a sticky, sated, heap and Jimmy said; “Well at least we got our money’s worth out of the bed.”

Thomas snorted a laugh and ran a hand through Jimmy’s hair. “Bloody glad I went out in the snow with you.”

Jimmy leaned up and looked Thomas in those frankly unfairly beautiful eyes. “So am I. Very glad indeed.”

They were both soon lulled to sleep by the post-coital glow and the wonderfully soft bed. Jimmy dreamed about Thomas, and, for once, his dreams had nothing on reality.

Jimmy woke first, the brilliance of sunshine on newly fallen snow penetrating even the thickest of curtains. Thomas was snoring softly, his hair an absolute disaster, his skin almost ethereal in the early morning light. Jimmy thought he’d be more afraid of the enormity of what had happened, and had expected to fall directly into a crisis once he’d sobered up. But, apart from an epic headache and a mouth that tasted like he’d been licking a dirty towel all night, he felt fine.

Better than fine. He felt positively _joyous_.

He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and padded over to the window, wincing as his feet touched the cold floor. He parted the curtains a crack and peeked outside - it must’ve snowed all night as everything was covered in a deep, muffling blanket of white and there wasn’t a soul in sight on the usually bustling city streets.

Jimmy smiled at the scene - it mirrored how he felt; soft and fluffy and bleedin’ _glowy_. He couldn’t stop himself grinning like an idiot. He was, well, in _love_ , he supposed. And, if he was honest, he had been for a good while, he just hadn’t let himself think about it. It had been like a ghost floating at the peripheries of his vision that he’d avoided looking at for fear it would become real and _ruin_ him. There was no hiding from it now though. He didn’t want to.

“What are you thinking?” Thomas said, his voice hoarse. Jimmy had been so lost in his reverie he hadn’t noticed him wake. The under-butler was eyeing him warily, readying himself for a shouting match or perhaps even a punch up.

“Just...that we’re going to be stuck here again. They’ll never clear the roads today.”

Thomas sat up, the duvet pulled up to his chin against the cold. “And how do you feel about that? Being stuck here. With me. After...you know.”

Jimmy pouted and pretended to mull it over, until Thomas’s usually stoic face cracked open into desperation and fear.

“Oh Thomas,” Jimmy crossed the room and climbed onto the bed. “I was teasing. I’m - I’m bleedin’ _delighted_ to be stuck here with you.” He leaned in and kissed Thomas softly, very aware his mouth probably tasted like the inside of a dirty ashtray. “I uh - I - need to say this before I get cold feet or somethin’ - so just listen. I uh. I love you,” Jimmy said, “and I’ve loved you a while. I’m an idiot for not sayin’ it sooner.”

Thomas grinned and said; “You’ll get no argument from me there.”

Jimmy swatted him on the arm. “Well if I’m an idiot, you’re the bleedin’ chump what loves one.”

Thomas looked at Jimmy with open adoration. “I suppose I am.”

They stared at each other for a long moment until Thomas let out a great whoop of laughter.

“Bleedin’ hell Thomas,” Jimmy winced, “me head’s splitting.”

Thomas drew Jimmy into his arms and kissed the side of his head. “Then come here and let me help you forget about it.”

Jimmy smiled, climbed under the covers, and spent the day letting Thomas do just that.


End file.
